The sound of wood snapping in the distance echoed around him, prompting Martin to jump to his feet. “Arielle?!” he shouted.
“Commander Briar!” a woman’s voice shouted back, flooding Martin with relief as his wait was finally coming to a close. “I’m almost there, hang tight!”
Martin spun around, looking for Arielle, but not spotting her in the massiveness of the woods. Two minutes later, hurried footsteps approached, crunching through the snow until Arielle appeared from the south, gasping for breath as she crouched down in her bundled up attire of a puffy, bright yellow jacket and ski pants. Her eyes fell to Chris on the ground before meeting Martin, a childish smile spreading across her face.
“Oh my God, Commander Briar,” she gasped. “Is that really him? Are you okay? There is blood all over you.” Her eyes moved from Chris to Martin’s blood-soaked shoulder.
Martin nodded, returning a grin of his own. “He’s as dead as the dinosaurs—never coming back. And yes, I’m fine, just a little scratch.”
Arielle took careful steps toward Chris, as if the dead body could still somehow reach up and snatch her ankles. She stood next to Martin, gaze stuck on Chris, jaw hanging open as she shook her head. “I can’t believe he’s dead.”
Martin moved his arm over her shoulder, pulling Arielle into his embrace. “He’s dead, but not gone. We know what we have to do next, and it won’t be pretty. Let’s enjoy this moment for what it is, but once we leave these woods, we owe it to the organization to never let an evil person rise to so much power again. The Revolution is going to raise hell at first. They might try to steal the body from us, might even start spreading propaganda that his death is fake, just to scare our members and start rumors. We must not let anything sway the new road ahead of us. We’ll put out fires where needed, but I look forward to a day of no more fighting.”
“You have a major speech to deliver after this is all settled, and no one will be able to be convinced away from the truth.”
Martin nodded. “I’d like to think so, but I don’t want to take any chances. I want his dead body behind me while I give the speech—we’ll do it right from the jet if we need to. How much longer until the other two get here?”
“If all went according to plan, they should be here in the next half hour.”
“And you’re okay to help carry him all the way back to their van?”
She hesitated, staring to the body on the ground, looking into those eyes where evil no longer lurked. “Absolutely. Are you okay to carry him? That shoulder looks awful.”
“Arielle, trust me when I tell you it’s fine—nothing to worry about.”
They stood in silence for a minute, both admiring the ultimate achievement of a dead Keeper of Time.
“Did you notice if your phone had any signal at the car?” Martin asked.
“It did. I sent a message to the lieutenant letting her know I was heading in. She confirmed the others should be here shortly.”
“Perfect. I want to call Steffan when we arrive, thank him for taking this huge risk for us, then Alina to let her know the good news. I don’t think I can hold it in for that whole ride back—I have to tell someone.”
“Soon enough, Commander. One thing at a time.”
As if answering his prayers, the sounds of more footsteps started carrying from the distance. Arielle cupped her hands to project her voice, shouting, “Darius! Marie! It’s safe—hurry!”
Martin noticed the smile in Arielle’s voice and couldn’t help but think of the next several weeks, if not months, bringing more of the same from everyone he’d encounter throughout the organization. He might even earn a smile from Councilman Uribe, a tall task from the bull of a man.
“Coming!” a woman’s voice called back, the footsteps immediately breaking into a sprint, clopping on the ground like wild horses. Martin looked in the direction where Arielle had arrived from and saw two figures making their way, legs pumping as they ran through patches of snow and mud.
When they reached Martin and Arielle, the man pulled off his ski mask, shaking his head to let his flowing blonde hair breathe. The woman had done the same thing, the two matching in their attire, wide grins plastered across their faces. Martin recognized them from the jet, but couldn’t recall any specific encounters with the two aside from courteous small talk in passing.
“Commander Briar,” the man said, sticking his hand out. “Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to Marie and I. We are brother and sister, and lost our parents a long time ago because of Chris. Bounced around orphanages since we were little, and all we’ve ever wanted was some justice. You’ve just given it to us.”
The words shook Martin. He understood the importance of what he had achieved—able to relate to it—but also appreciated the long journey the two siblings had surely endured. The road ahead would be filled with these types of heart-wrenching stories, something he’d need to emotionally prepare for. It was easy to lose sight, especially as commander, of the fact that everyone had their reasons for joining the Road Runners, no different from himself. All stories shared one thing in common: Chris Speidel ruining lives, either directly or indirectly.
“Don’t thank just me . . .” Martin fished for the man’s name.
“Darius,” he replied, still squeezing Martin’s hand with a slight tremble.
“Yes, my apologies. Darius. This was a team effort with so many moving parts. I simply sealed the deal.”
Darius shook his head violently. “With all due respect, sir, you are wrong. Yes, we all played our part in making this happen—that was never the question. We’ve always had that willingness, every single Road Runner, but we’ve never had someone to rally behind quite like you.”
“I don’t understand. I’m just a regular guy. Two years ago I didn’t even know time travel was a real thing.”
“That’s exactly it,” Marie chimed in. “We all saw ourselves in you. Every commander we’ve had before has been great in their own rights, and each one flirted with ways to bring down the Revolution, but they always landed in the muddy politics of the situation, giving excuses as to why it wasn’t the right time, or too risky. It was clear from the beginning that you were truly in this to right a wrong—and that’s all we wanted. You had no interest in the commandership itself, not the power and glory that comes with it, just killing Chris. Nothing else. It was refreshing to see someone with the same desire as us.”
“We had our doubts,” Darius said. “How well could someone so new truly do in this type of role? But the role didn’t matter; you only leveraged it to get us to this moment of victory. Even the Council wanted to stop this, but you pressed forward. Not to mention, we were all aware of the romance between you and Sonya. For me personally, I knew the moment you agreed to kill her that we had this in the bag. I suppose every commander had their share of obstacles, as Marie mentioned, but yours were personal. You came to terms with them on your own, and that cleared the path. Commander Briar, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way—because we all know the kind of man you are—but you are the best commander in the history of the organization.”
Tears welled in Martin’s eyes as he listened. He looked to Arielle for assurance, and she only returned a nod and grin. Darius finally released his grip on Martin’s hand, taking a step back and shaking his head while he looked at Chris on the ground.
“I’m not sure what to say . . . thank you.” Martin wiped his tears away, feeling them on the verge of freezing over his eyeballs.
“Nothing to say, Commander,” Darius said. “Job well done. Now, are we ready to get this dead bastard out of here and back to Winnipeg?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” Arielle chuckled.
The four of them each grabbed a limb, hoisting Chris into the air, the limp body not weighing very much thanks to his sudden aging that had caught up with him in his final days. As always, he wore his signature black suit, and Martin brushed his fingers along the pants, sensing the memories and destruction that had
once swarmed within the man. He thought back to the day he and his mother entered Wealth of Time, neither aware what that one simple visit would lead to.
They trudged through the woods, moving at an excited pace, all three of them anxious—and honored—to hear the story firsthand from their commander of how he finally killed Chris Speidel. The story would take its own form in the coming months as people added little details and bent the story to make it dramatic in their own way. But these four would forever know exactly how it all played out.
Chapter 30
Martin and the crew arrived back to the jet in Winnipeg to a raucous welcome party. He had placed the phone calls he wanted once they arrived back to the vehicles in Angle Inlet, receiving a deafening howl from Steffan all the way in England. His call with Alina turned into an emotional conversation that she promptly ended, wanting to wait until they were together in person.
Darius and Marie drove the van with Chris’s body, Martin and Arielle trailing behind for the entire trip back. The car ride was a completely different scene compared to their trip out of Winnipeg. Music blared and laughter filled the vehicle. Martin and Arielle swapped stories of their early lives, mainly the good memories.
By the time they arrived to the jet, it was close to one o’clock in the morning. Everyone was wide awake, lining up in two opposite rows to form a pathway for Martin and everyone else to file back up the stairs, and onto the jet where a full dinner spread had been catered, and the bar had been restocked.
A round of applause greeted them for a solid two minutes, each individual team member taking the opportunity to either shake Martin’s hand or give him a big hug as he made his way through the tunnel of people. Every face he saw had been on this mission since its first days. He’d seen these people through ups and downs in the matter of a few weeks, but nothing could replace the sheer glee now stuck on their faces.
A stretcher was brought out to help carry Chris’s body onto the jet, a handful of members volunteering to do the honors while everyone else gawked in disbelief at the dead body of a man who had at one point ruined their lives.
Martin led the procession up the stairs, where Alina waited at the top with a generous grin.
“Welcome back, Commander,” she said, opening her arms to hug him. She planted a kiss on his cheek before whispering in his ear. “Thank you.”
“It’s great seeing you,” Martin said. “Can’t say I thought I’d actually be back here.” He looked around the jet as if he had marooned on a foreign island. All chairs and tables had been pushed along the edges of the cabin to clear room for an open floor. A solid black sheet hung from the ceiling where Martin’s seat was normally stationed, a podium set up in front of it.
Alina followed his gaze. “We’re ready for your big speech. Did you prepare any remarks? Do you want to get changed out of those bloody clothes? You look like you got mauled by a bear.”
“Let the people see the fruit of my work. I haven’t prepared anything on paper, but I have been thinking over what I want to say. You don’t think we should wait until the morning? How many people are honestly going to watch this right now?”
“A lot has been put in motion since you left. I opened a line of communication with Uribe, and once I got word from you, he lifted the blackout and informed all members to be ready for a special announcement likely to come in the middle of the night. I’m sure the rumors are flying, but our protesters have retreated, leaving just the Revolters out on the streets to get scooped up by local authorities. At this point, people are assuming that you’re either dead or have pulled off the impossible. Both circumstances are hard for everyone to process.”
“Well then, I guess they’re gonna be pleased to see me.”
“We’re ready when you are.”
“Let’s do this.”
The rest of the team had made their way onto the jet, two members sliding a table behind the podium where they would lay the stretcher holding Chris. The noise level immediately rose as chatter filled the confined space, an impromptu—and deserved—party breaking out.
Alina put two fingers between her lips and whistled, a piercing sound that dropped a hammer on all the noise. “I know we are all very excited to party the night away, but our work is not done. Commander Briar needs to deliver a speech to the organization, then a small team of us will need to make preparations for disposing of Chris’s body. Commander Briar is ready, so we’d appreciate your undivided attention. And yes, you can cheer if the speech calls for it.”
Martin made his way to the podium, stealing a quick glance at the dead body that would decorate the background behind him. He faced the camera and nodded, the camera operator counting down with his fingers until pointing at Martin, surely the biggest audience to have ever tuned in to an organizational address.
“Good morning, Road Runners,” Martin said with a smirk. “I want to first apologize for surely getting most of you out of bed at such a late hour, but monumental events cannot wait to be announced. I also want to apologize for the stress I have caused the organization over the past few weeks. I have been absent from my office and regular duties to work on this weeks-long mission. It is my great pleasure to announce that the mission is complete.”
The small crowd on the jet erupted in applause. The TVs in the jet showed the live stream, and Martin noticed the camera view showed Martin off-center to the right of the screen, strategically allowing the viewers at home to see Chris Speidel, from the stomach up, on the left-hand side.
“As you can see behind me, Chris Speidel is dead.”
Martin paused, allowing a moment for the news to sink in for all those watching around the world. The cell phone in his pocket immediately started buzzing and would remain in that state for the next two hours. His team on the jet hollered and shouted, hugging each other now that the announcement had been officially made. Their commotion rumbled the jet to the point of making Martin wonder if they were getting ready for takeoff. The celebration carried on for five minutes, Martin remaining behind the podium, smiling and nodding to both the camera and those in front of him, thanking everyone for their showering of joy. The moment grew somewhat awkward for Martin, feeling stuck behind the podium while the entire Road Runner world lost their minds. He wasn’t even halfway through his speech that had now been put on pause. Once the applause finally died down, Martin continued.
“I want to award a major token of gratitude to this team here with me. Every single person here has been working around the clock for nearly a month. No one has had a full night’s sleep during this mission, and many have been on the road with no contact to their family and friends. Thank you all for the sacrifices you have made to make this possible.”
Martin paused and took a sip of water while another round of applause went around. He looked forward to getting drunk off whiskey and falling asleep at the next opportunity he could.
“I also need to take a moment to thank Sonya Griffiths. Without going into details, Sonya decided to sacrifice her life to make this mission possible. As you may know, Chris had injected his blood into her system when she was a child, guaranteeing him a life of invincibility as long as she lived. Without her sacrifice, this mission would have surely hit multiple road blocks along the way, and may have ended up failing. I know that Sonya had a rocky ending to her relationship with the Road Runners, but if I can forgive her, then so should you.
“I understand the shock you might be experiencing from hearing this news today—you may even have doubts that Chris is really dead. I understand the concerns, and that is why our plans for his remains will include dismembering his body into thirteen different parts. The parts will be sealed in steel boxes to either be buried in a remote location, or dumped into the ocean. We will keep one of the sealed boxes in the Road Runners’ headquarters, and it will transfer to wherever our next commander chooses to base the headquarters during their term.
“The day has come for us to no longer live in fear. When the sun rises later this morning, rest
assured that it is rising not only over a new day, but also a new era for the Road Runners. We’ve lost so many of our own during the past several months in what ended up being a bloody end to this war. Let’s take the time to mourn those losses, but also keep our heads up. We can operate without the lingering threat of destruction. We can walk down the streets again with our friends and families and not have to constantly look over our shoulders. We can even start building our offices above ground, and live our lives free of worry.
“I came into this position reluctantly. I had no experience, and honestly no desire, to be the commander for all of you fine members. All I had was an unrelenting need to kill Chris Speidel. Now, as I look to our future, I can’t help but to be filled with pride of what we have accomplished and what still lies ahead. This organization was founded to counter the antics of the Revolution, and we have seen that purpose through. We now have the unique opportunity to shape our organization into whatever we want it to be for the long-term future. I’ll be relying on you, the members, to help form this new vision. Let’s take our time and seriously consider what we want that future to look like. This team by my side will be taking a much-deserved vacation as soon as we handle Chris’s remains—it’s an order. And once they’re all back, I’ll also take a brief break to clear my head. During that time, I encourage you all to have conversations with each other, discuss what you like about our existing structure, and, more importantly, what you don’t like. We will set up a system for the millions of you to deliver your remarks so that myself and the Council can review and implement changes the majority wants.
“Until then, be proud of what we have accomplished. I look forward to returning to the normal day-to-day we were once accustomed to. Good night, and may you each have the brightest future imaginable.”
Martin nodded to the camera and stepped away once he received the okay that the feed had been cut. Those on the jet offered one final round of applause before someone turned on the radio, blaring “We Are the Champions” to kick off the not-so-subtle celebration.
Time of Fate (Wealth of Time Series #6) Page 19